Shadow
by jasperskitty
Summary: Stiles simply couldn't shake the feeling that he was being followed. He never saw anyone or anything suspicious … except for one time.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Something was off. Actually, something has been off for quite some time now.

It started the night a female corpse was found in the woods. Well, only half of it actually. The upper body was still missing. Stiles only knew about it because he'd done what he always did – eavesdropping on his Dad, the Sheriff, while he was busy orchestrating a search party over the radio.

Of course, Stiles wanted to sneak out that night, hell-bent on finding the missing part himself. But as bold as he might be – not to mention downright stupid sometimes – he didn't want to go alone. Unfortunately, his usual partner in crime and best friend Scott had been sick at the time, confined to his bed with a severe cold.

In the end Stiles was kinda glad that he didn't follow through with his idea. After three weeks the police still had no clue what had killed the girl. Well at least they had no irrefutable results. There were rumors about a mountain lion attack. And going by the viciousness of the assault it must have been an animal, and a big one at that. But there haven't been any sightings of mountain lions for years, or any other animal that size for that matter. And on top of that, Scott had overheard his boss Deaton talking to Stiles' Dad about the whole incident. Something about traces of human DNA mixed in with all the animal saliva. Human DNA, that didn't belong to the still unknown victim.

Stiles had racked his brain about that piece of information for days, driving Scott insane. Sure, he too thought it was strange, but unlike Stiles, Scott wasn't quite so obsessive. He had other things on his mind … or rather another person.

And in a way Stiles could see the attraction the new girl represented. Allison might not be his type, at all, but she was without a doubt very pretty. In fact, she was a natural beauty, using only a hint of makeup to underline her features. And despite her friendship with Lydia and Jackson, she was pleasant company too.

Her Dad, on the other hand, was another story.

Stiles had seen Chris Argent just a couple of times at school, when he came to pick up his daughter. But even from those brief encounters Stiles could tell that there was something off about the man.

Sure, at first glance he seemed to be a nice guy, obviously very protective of his sixteen year old daughter, the way he scowled at practically every male looking at Allison. But despite that there was something in his eyes, and in the way he moved and held himself that gave Stiles the heebie-jeebies. And even though he was used to guns due to his father's profession, Stiles thought that Mr. Argent's choice of work was a bit unusual. Why would someone who deals with firearms, legally or not, settle down in a place like Beacon Hills?

Thankfully, Stiles didn't spend much time with Allison outside of school, which meant his contact with her family was practically nonexistent. Of course, Stiles was curious to find out more about the Argents, but somehow he knew that poking around their lives wasn't a good idea.

* * *

Strangely enough it wasn't the major events – the dead girl and the Argents arrival in town – that had kept Stiles on edge for the last three weeks. No, it was the little, seemingly insignificant things that were slowly but surely causing him to doubt his own sanity.

It started really small. The window in his room being wide open in the morning, although Stiles could have sworn he'd left it ajar in evening. There hadn't been any storms, which might explain the pushed open window. He would have closed it completely if that had been the case.

Then there were the increased canine footprints in the yard, even though no one in the neighborhood had gotten a new dog. Stiles might not be a veterinarian like Scott's boss, but he was an excellent researcher. It took him only a few seconds to learn it couldn't be anything else. The only other conclusion would have been a wolf. But according to wildlife service there haven't been any wolves in this area for years. Anyhow, whosever dog it was, at least it was well behaved. So far, Stiles hadn't found any poop on the entire premises, or dug holes, containing bones.

Even though neither he nor his father was fond of gardening, they both kept the backyard nice and clean. Partly in memory of Stiles' mom, who loved spending time pottering around the garden, but mainly because it was expected. It certainly wouldn't look good if the Sheriff's garden resembled a dumping ground.

But that wasn't all. In fact, Stiles might have ignored those incidents, if it hadn't been for the stuff that kept disappearing around the house. Not money or something valuable, sentimental or otherwise, but simple things like a few pieces of clothing and food.

Strangely enough, John Stilinski hadn't noticed anything amiss. Not because he wasn't observant. That would be really weird, with him being a police officer and all that. Being perceptive was part of the job description. Sure, he sometimes turned a blind eye to Stiles' misdemeanors, but never at work. In fact, he took his job very seriously, doing overtime more often than not, leaving Stiles to take care of the household duties. Like doing the laundry, going grocery shopping and cooking … which was probably why Stiles was the only one noticing that some of the food started to go missing from the fridge and pantry, along with a few clothes from the dryer.

At first he chalked it up to his ADHD. Stiles was the last one to deny that sometimes the disorder caused him to overdo things – literally and figuratively – but given that he rarely ever forgot to take his medicine, not to mention that he kept a close eye on his father's eating habits, he knew something was off.

But what fool would break into the Sheriff's house to steal food, or anything else for that matter? Not that there had been any signs of breaking and entering … which left only one conclusion. It had to be someone who had free access to the house.

Needless to say, accusing his father of stealing food didn't go over very well. Okay, that was actually a complete understatement. Convincing the Sheriff to stick to a low fat diet in order to keep his blood pressure in check was already a daily challenge, for both of them. Even though Stiles didn't look like it, he could eat for four. Of course, he loved greasy food, especially curly fries, but to make easier for his father, he had banned all junk food from the house. The only exception was his homemade chocolate chip cookies. The recipe had been handed down to him by his grandmother, from his mother's side. Every two or three weeks Stiles made a batch, storing them in the pantry. Usually they lasted two weeks, but not lately.

"Are you serious? You actually think I sneak into the pantry at night and steal cookies." His dad sounded both insulted and amused.

"Well, I didn't eat them, which only leaves you." Stiles reasoned, not backing down one bit.

"Oh, does it now, Sherlock. What about Scott? He practically lives here." John shot back. It was obvious that he wasn't searching for an excuse, only pointing out another, reasonable explanation for the disappearance of the cookies. And he certainly had a strong point there. Scott's mother Melissa worked as a nurse at Beacon Hill Memorial Hospital, more often than not taking the late shift. And unlike Stiles, Scott didn't know how to cook, which was why he was a regular guest at Stiles' home. And he was known for his sweet tooth.

"Maybe you are right …" Stiles allowed, somewhat ruefully.

"Good. And maybe next time you should consider all the possibilities before accusing innocent people." His father scolded, effectively closing the subject.

Stiles didn't bring up it again. In fact, he had never been fully convinced that his father was the culprit. John Stilinski knew how serious his son took the whole healthy diet thing. If he was cheating – and Stiles was sure that he did every now and then – he certainly wouldn't do it at home.

Of course, Stiles also interrogated his best friend. Naturally, that conversation went over better, seeing as Scott wasn't nearly as smart, or scary, as his father. But unfortunately, his best friend equally denied the theft. Which meant Stiles was left none the wiser.

Maybe he really was going crazy, seeing things that weren't there. It wasn't like he actually took stock of all the food on a daily basis. But still, even without certifiable proof he was sure someone was regularly helping himself to their food. Whoever it was, he or she was smart enough not to clean out the whole pantry or leave any evidence behind. Smart, but certainly frustrating …

And then there was the subject of the clothes that went missing. So far it was just two of his old, worn-out t-shirts, a couple of socks, and some sweat pants, nothing major. Stiles wasn't angry about the loss of those items, just confused. But unlike with the food, he didn't mention it to his father, fearing his reaction. Yelling fire without probable cause was never wise a decision. And he certainly didn't want to worry his dad needlessly. Or end up being grounded … which was a strong likelihood after the whole food-stealing debacle.

Instead Stiles decided to carry on, like nothing was wrong … until the second murder happened. Or animal attack as the police classified it.

* * *

Having his own car now, Stiles wasn't any longer dependent on the bus to get to school. But even though it's been a while, he could still remember how shifty the bus driver Garrison Myers had been. At the time Stiles hadn't given it much thought, dismissing it to the stress of the job. Driving a school bus full of teenagers surely wasn't the easiest profession, but then again, Myers had always been grumpy, sometimes downright rude.

Stiles would never forget the morning the man had snapped at Erica Reyes. For no reason. So what if the strap of her bag ripped right when she was getting on the bus? It's not like she had done it on purpose. Kneeling in the mud, hastening to gather up all the things that had spilled out, Erica had kept on apologizing, over and over again. Unnecessarily, in Stiles' opinion, and apparently completely in vain, given the bus driver's reaction. Myers hadn't shown any sign of compassion whatsoever, just snapping at her to hurry the fuck up. Actually, he'd stooped so low to call her a dimwitted bitch. That's when Stiles stepped in, shouting at the driver to shut it. Not a wise move, as it turned out. They both had been kicked off the bus, forced to wait for the next one, barely making it to first period on time.

Stiles never regretted speaking up for the blonde girl. For one, he couldn't stand people who took advantage of weaker personalities or making fun of them. It struck to close to home. And secondly, Erica was anything but stupid. In fact, she was among the top ten of the best students at Beacon Hill High. Unfortunately, no one seemed to care. Well at least no one among the student body, except for Stiles, of course. He always kept a close eye on his competition, so to speak. But to most of his classmates good grades were a sign of weakness, a flaw. Even Lydia, who was well on her way to make valedictorian, was hiding her intelligence behind too much make-up and a rather unpleasant behavior. Or rather she tried.

Being a nerd meant being an outsider. But unlike Erica, Stiles at least had lacrosse. Sure, he spent most of his time on the bench, but still. Lacrosse was the only sport that truly mattered at Beacon Hill High. Being a team member – active or not – spared him a lot of grieve.

But more than being a nerd, and for obvious health issues not into sports, Erica was really shy. Stiles doubted she had even one person at school she could call a friend. He would have offered his friendship in a heartbeat, if it hadn't been for the obvious crush she had on him. He didn't want to give her false hope. But he still kept an eye out for her. Whenever she was in trouble, he helped out … mostly without her knowing it. Nerds just had to stick together. Or at least, that's how Stiles saw it.

Anyway … despite his less than nice demeanor, Myers hadn't deserved to die like that, or at all. He might have been a prick, but being mauled by who knew what or whom … well that was just nasty.

It didn't really come much as a surprise that the police enforced a night-time curfew after that second murder. Yes, unlike everyone else, including the entire police force, Stiles classified the killings as murders. He was convinced there was something else going on than some wild animal going on a rampage. Seriously, what animal would climb into a school bus to kill the driver?

And seeing how stressed out his father was, trying to make progress in his investigation, not to mention trying to prevent any further fatal attacks, Stiles thought the least he could do to help, openly, was to abide by the new set of rules. He came home after school, did his homework, and housework, rarely leaving the house after dark. And unlike Scott, Stiles didn't have a reason to sneak out at night.

But when he went out after sunset, to go over to Scott's for some bro-time or do some last minute grocery shopping, he felt like he was being watched. With everything going on – the killings and the weird happenings at the house – Stiles was extremely vigilant. Some might say paranoid. But then again, better safe than sorry, right?

Stiles simply couldn't shake the feeling that he was being followed. He never saw anyone or anything suspicious … except for one time.

* * *

Stiles was on his way back to his jeep after picking up a few movies and some popcorn for a lone movie night. It wasn't that late yet, still two hours till curfew, but it was already dark. He was still grumbling about the bad selection when he heard something behind him. A rustle of leaves, a snap of twigs, but no footsteps. Stiles turned around anyway, mostly driven by instinct. Unfortunately, the parking lot in front of video store was very dimly lit. He was lucky to make out his own car, which was in fact the only vehicle there. But other than that, he couldn't see anything. Just darkness and shadows.

Stiles rarely acted on gut instinct. His decisions were mostly based on logic. Mostly. But this time was different. His instincts were practically screaming at him, that he shouldn't linger. And for once he actually listened. Stiles threw his purchases into his car, quickly scrambling behind the wheel. But just before he was able to turn the key in the ignition, he heard another sound. A low growl … not truly menacing, but not very comforting either. Deep down Stiles knew he should take a hike, but his curiosity was stronger. He stopped mid-action, staring outside the window, trying very hard to make out anything in the dark. He still couldn't see much. He was just about to give up and leave, when the thick bushes nearby moved, and a dark figure came into view.

Due to the lack of light, Stiles wasn't sure what it was. But it was big, huge even. Definitely taller than a mountain lion. The creature didn't come closer, just standing there, watching Stiles like it was studying him. And Stiles couldn't do anything else but stare back.

Back into bright, magnificent blue eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Stiles still didn't know what finally broke the spell between him and the creature. But he felt very relieved when he was finally released, able to take off … well accurately take flight. He drove straight home, making it just in time, before his Dad's check-up call.

Needless to say, he didn't watch any of the movies that night. But he ate most of the popcorn, with extra butter, while doing what he always did, when he had no clue what was going on, but felt the compulsive need to quench his thirst for answers.

Research.

Stiles stayed up all night, spending hours online. Thankfully it was Friday and he didn't have to get up early the next day. He browsed website after website, but in the end his search wasn't very fruitful. But then again he didn't have much to start with. Sure, he found quite a few animals with blue eyes, most of them too small to fit the blurry picture still stuck in his head … except for some members of the canine family. And going by the sound the creature had let loose, it had to be a dog or a wolf. And a huge one at that. Somehow he hoped it was just a wild dog. Wolves usually ran in packs, which meant if there was one, there had to be others. And that wouldn't be good news.

Of course, Stiles didn't tell anyone about this weird encounter. Anyway, what was there to tell? A strange dog, wolf or whatever, had growled at him, but otherwise hadn't done anything. It hadn't moved, it hadn't pounced, just had kept its distance, staring at him with those strange, vibrant blue eyes.

For a moment Stiles considered that this animal, whatever it was, might be responsible for the killings. But he disregarded that thought almost immediately. Why would a vicious animal attack two people, but leave him unharmed? True, there wasn't much meat on him to chew on, but then again, Garrison Myers was – or rather had been – also on the scrawny side. And from what he'd picked up while spying on his Dad, the same could be said about girl from the woods.

So that couldn't be the reason.

Maybe he didn't smell right. Not appetizing enough. Somehow Stiles could behind that train of thought, especially considering his romantic track record. Although … unlike Greenberg, he always showered twice a day. He might only use deodorant instead of some overpriced cologne like Jackson, but he was pretty sure any animal would be appalled rather than enticed by those artificial fragrances. He might never have owned a dog, but he had done enough research to know that canines were very sensitive about scents. And apparently very particular too …

Anyway, Stiles tried to put the incident behind him, forget about it, but apparently his unconscious mind wasn't on the same page.

* * *

It didn't come really as a surprise though, that Stiles started to have dreams about those blue eyes. It wasn't that he had a preference when it came to eye color. But those eyes had been very captivating. Stiles had a lot of other words to describe them too … pretty, beautiful, even gorgeous … but he would never voice them out loud. He might be gay, but he was still male. Girls used such words, not boys.

In the beginning he dreamt only about the eyes, following him through his dreams. He could rarely remember what the rest of the dreams were about, but he could clearly recall that. And then, after the first few times the owner of the eyes took shape.

Stiles had seen wolves at the zoo once, but they had nothing on his nightly visitor. Its fur was completely black, and very thick. The first time Stiles was startled, but only for a moment. Like the night in front of the video store, he simply wasn't prepared. But just like in reality the wolf kept his distance, cocking his head to one side and then the other, scrutinizing him from top to bottom. Even though it was an animal, Stiles felt embarrassed, more self-conscious than he'd ever felt in real life. And that was saying something, considering the stuff he'd gone through since his kindergarten days.

The wolf was sizing him up, licking his muzzle repeatedly, but not because he was planning to pounce and make Stiles his next meal. Somehow he could tell that the wolf had no such interest in him … quite the opposite actually. The way he was looking at Stiles, it almost felt sexual, like he was trying to undress him with his eyes.

Sure, Stiles had seen and read his fair share of porn, even some kinky stuff, but never something related to bestiality. He didn't know if his unconscious was trying to tell him something, or if it was his imagination just running wild. He guessed it was the latter. Although, considering his non-existent love life both would make sense, but he wasn't that desperate. He simply hadn't met the right person yet, someone he was truly interested in. There had been a few crushes, here and there, but nothing serious.

Still … to be completely honest, he kinda liked the way the wolf was staring at him. It made him feel wanted. And what did it matter that he felt that way? After all, they were just dreams. No harm done. No one needed to know about it. This was just between him and the wolf.

With each occurring dream the surroundings also became clearer. Almost always, they would meet in the woods. The Beacon Hill woods to be exact. Stiles recognized the clearing at once. He and his mother used to go there to go mushrooming. Or collect wildflowers. He'd loved it. In fact, he'd loved spending time with his mother, no matter what they'd been doing. She had always been very outdoorsy, never staying in the house for long, always seeking fresh air instead of spending her days cooped up in the house. And sometimes Stiles had the same urge, to be out and about, to run through the woods, to take a walk through the park or just be on the lacrosse field.

Stiles always held the wolf's gaze, never making a move, even though he was itching to run his fingers through the thick fur. Despite the fact that he sometimes got the distinct impression that he was able to influence the outcome, he also knew that dreams could be extremely unpredictable. He was afraid what might happen if he made the first move. There was always the chance that he was just misinterpreting the longing in the wolf's eyes. Maybe he'd scare him off by acting impulsively. And Stiles certainly didn't want that to happen.

It felt like he'd had the same dream a thousand times. But it'd been just three days since the first real encounter. (Yes, after the numerous dreams, he was certain it had been a wolf.) On the fourth night the wolf finally made a move. Surprised, but mostly elated, Stiles stayed put, allowing the wolf to come to him. Unlike his previous experiences with dreams, the wolf didn't just magically appear at Stiles' side. He slowly put one paw in front the other, until he was finally standing next to Stiles.

The wolf was big, reaching to his hip. He leaned slightly against Stiles, who took the gesture as an open invitation, starting to pet the wolf. The fur felt just as thick and silky as it looked, and with each passing second Stiles got bolder. The wolf showed his appreciation by growling, low and deep. It sounded almost like a purr.

Stiles had no idea what made him do it, but he suddenly dropped to his knees, hugging his new friend. The wolf clearly hadn't seen that coming. And how could he? He was just an animal. And this was just a dream. He went rigid for a moment, but recovered very quickly. He turned his head, sniffing at Stiles' neck for a second or two, before licking him right across the cheek.

Stiles wasn't appalled or freaked out, giggling like a school girl. "What the hell took you so long?"

That's when he woke up.

* * *

More than a week had passed since his first, and only, encounter with the actual wolf. Stiles kept his eyes and ears open for any news, but so far there hadn't been any sightings of the wolf or the actual culprit.

But he kept dreaming about the wolf. Nothing much happened between them, well, other than the wolf demanding a thorough belly rub from Stiles each and every night. But Stiles didn't mind. Quite the opposite, actually. He loved snuggling with the wolf. Of course, even though it was just a dream, he knew the whole thing was silly, stupid even. But so far the wolf hadn't shown any sign of its natural behavior. He didn't snap, didn't even snarl at him. Every now and then he would let out a huff, like he was somewhat irritated by Stiles' endless chatter, but nothing else. He would just lie next to Stiles or sit at his feet, enjoying the share of kindness and affection, and listen.

And that was one of the main reasons why he literally sought out the wolf in his dreams, because in real life Stiles didn't have anyone who was giving him his or hers undivided attention. Not anymore.

Sure, his father would talk to him, when something was up. But he didn't take the time to just sit down with his son and have a simple conversation. He used do that, but for the last several years he'd buried himself in work. True, with his promotion to Sheriff came a heavier workload, but still. Sometimes it seemed that he was avoiding him on purpose.

Stiles knew that his father loved him, that he would do anything to protect his son, no matter what. But there was no point denying the truth. Since his mother died things had been different. It wasn't that John blamed Stiles for his wife's death. How could he? She died of cancer. But losing her had shaken up the Stilinski household to its very core. Claudia Stilinski had been the clue, keeping the family together.

After her death, Stiles had barely uttered a word for two weeks, which was saying something, considering he was usually such a chatterbox. But even though his mother's death had been inevitable – stage 4 cancer, chemo not working and surgery no longer an option – he simply hadn't been prepared. And how could he? How could anyone? Her death had left a gaping hole. And so many unanswered questions …

Both Stilinski men barely managed to pick up where they'd left off. But they had … eventually. The sheriff had chosen his work to distract himself. And Stiles had found a confidant in Scott. His parents might only have gone through a divorce, but he could certainly relate to feeling of sudden loss.

Over time things had gotten easier, for all of them. But every now and then, Stiles hit rock bottom, loosing himself in his grief. The sheriff had similar reactions, usually around anniversaries … Claudia's birthday, their wedding anniversary, Stiles' birthday, and of course on the day of her death. But they both had different ways to deal with the grief. John would drown his sorrow in alcohol, while Stiles, not necessarily due to his age, would seek out new projects, something to obsess about.

Like trying to solve the seemingly unsolvable murders … and make sense of his nightly visitor.

But even though he thoroughly enjoyed the dreams, Stiles could tell they were starting to take a toll on him. It almost seemed like he was still half awake during those dreams. He'd never experienced anything like that before. Sometimes he could swear that he could actually feel it when he ran his fingers through the wolf's fur or when he was licking Stiles' hand. But that was probably just wishful thinking …

* * *

It was Monday and Stiles was late, again. He barely made to his locker in time to put away his jacket and get out a book he needed for his first class.

Scott came up behind him. "Man, you look like shit."

"Gee, thanks … and a good morning to you, too." Stiles grumbled, stuffing the book into his bag, before slamming the locker door shut.

"I mean you look good … well not good, like I'm into you … just good … you know what I mean …" Scott babbled, waving his hands in his typical 'forget-it manner'.

Stiles grinned. Sure, Scott was totally okay with Stiles being gay, but sometimes he still managed to act a fool. Like the time he first told him about his orientation towards men.

"Does that mean you want to kiss them?" Scott had asked. It had been very obvious by his tone of voice, that he wasn't repulsed by that thought, rather confused and curious.

"Yes, of course." Stiles had replied with a smirk. "Among other things …"

At that statement Scott had wrinkled his nose. "Well, that's, um … to each his own, I suppose. But you don't want me that way, do you?"

"Sorry, bro, but you are not my type." Stiles had laughed, providing the reassurance his friend apparently needed.

"Well, in that case, I'm totally okay with it." Scott had said, laughing too. And with that the subject had been closed.

Aside from Scott nobody knew that Stiles was into guys. Well, at least not officially. He wasn't actually hiding in the closet, so to speak, more like protecting his privacy. Of course, he was planning to talk to his Dad about it at some point. He wasn't afraid of his reaction, but so far there hadn't been the right time for that kind of topic … or the right motivation.

"Why are you late? You're never late." Scott stated, accusingly.

"People change." Stiles said, shrugging. Without another word he turned around, purposely making his way down the hallway. He knew he was evasive, at best, but then again, he could hardly tell his friend that he'd overslept because he had desperately been holding onto a dream.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Scott yelled after him, hurrying to keep with his friend's fast strides. He was clearly taken aback by Stiles' cold and distant demeanor, but he mostly sounded confused, not accusing.

"Nothing, never mind … I just didn't sleep well, that's all." Stiles answered, telling more or less the truth.

"Okay …" Scott conceded. He didn't sound completely convinced, but he didn't push the subject either. Along with two other students they entered the classroom, taking their seats right before the bell rang. Mr. Harris clearly was disappointed that they were just on time. Stiles had no idea what the guy's problem was with him and Scott, but for some reason he had it out for them. And it had always been like that, even though they had never done anything to provoke this behavior,

"Hey, what are you doing tomorrow?" Scott whispered, leaning across his table.

Fortunately Harris was otherwise occupied to notice. He'd found victim after all. Greenberg had tried to sneak in, failing miserably. Stiles didn't particularly like the guy. In fact no one did. But the way he got dressed down by Harris right now … well he definitely felt sorry for his teammate.

"We only have half a day thanks to that teachers' conference thing. We should do something."

Stiles was surprised by the sudden change of subject, but glad, for more than one reason. "No plans whatsoever. Are you telling me that you are free for once?" He didn't mean to sound so accusing, but he always had a hard time hiding his true feelings. And they both knew it. There was no point denying the truth. It had been quite a while since they'd hung out, without Stiles being the third wheel.

Scott actually blushed, clearly feeling guilty for neglecting his duties as a friend. "Yes. Wanna watch a movie or something?"

"Sure." Stiles agreed eagerly.

"Cool." Scott beamed.

Unfortunately, they didn't get the chance to go through with their plans.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Stiles knew it was a foolish idea. If going into woods alone was a bad plan before, it was an even worse one now.

Once was chance, twice was coincidence, third time was a pattern. That's what he'd learned from his father. But even though Stiles was already convinced that all the weird incidents were following a pattern rather than being mere coincidence, something told him that he was safe during the day. Or at least, that was what he surmised. Both murders had occurred during nighttime. Which was why he felt (relatively) safe venturing into the woods on his own, at half past one in the afternoon.

Scott was at home, studying. Once again he'd failed a test and this time his mother had grounded him. Stiles offered to help, but Scott had said that no one was allowed to come over. Stiles didn't truly believe him, especially not after hearing Allison whisper her goodbye to her boyfriend. "See you later."

Stiles didn't even consider calling him out about the patent lie. Sure, he had been pleasantly surprised by Scott's unexpected invitation to spend the afternoon together, but to be completely honest, he hadn't truly believed they would go through with their plans, even before the whole grounding thing.

There had been a time – not that long ago – when Stiles would have convinced Scott to simply defy his mother's instructions and sneak out. And he would have easily succeeded at it too. But things had changed, considerably.

Now he didn't want his friend with him on this outing. Over the last couple of weeks Stiles had managed to pretty much alienate himself from Scott, with all his conspiracy plots and whatnot. And besides … what could he tell Scott? That he was looking for a wolf, the one he'd met only once in real life but kept seeking out in his dreams? Not likely. Scott would probably think that he had completely lost his mind. In the past he might have been more open, but now with his the new focus in his life, Scott was just like him … preoccupied.

Stiles took his jeep, driving as deep into the woods as he could, until he was forced to make the rest of the way on foot. But he didn't mind. He would have walked the whole way, but given the circumstances, he thought it wouldn't be such a good idea. What if he had to get away really fast? He was no snail, but not a cheetah either.

And just to be safe, he'd packed a hunting knife and a pepper spray, both borrowed from his father's closet. Maybe it wouldn't do him much good, in case he would get attacked by a predator, but at least he was somewhat prepared. The same could be said for his outfit. Instead of his usual light sneakers, he wore his hiking boots, which were heavier but gave him much needed support while walking through the woods. After the last night's rainfall, the ground was muddy and somewhat treacherous. He easily would have slipped wearing his usual footwear. He'd also changed into some old jeans, but kept on his favorite hoodie. It was red. Maybe not the best choice of color, but at least it was dark, not bright red.

The air was clear and fresh. It was about sixty degrees, not completely atypical for October, but usually it was about ten to fifteen degrees warmer. Stiles didn't mind the lower temperatures though. In fact, he liked summer and winter equally, as well as the seasons in between. He loved to bath in the sun, even though his tan didn't show it. The few times he'd actually seen snow, far away from Beacon Hill, he'd made sure to make the most of it. He'd spent hours playing in the snow, until his lips were blue and he was chilled to the bone. But he'd never complained. There was still a picture on his nightstand of him and his mother making snow angels, right next to one with him and his father building a snowman. It was the last time they had spent a vacation together, as a family …

But Stiles also enjoyed this, the smell of fresh rain still clinging to the air and the surroundings. And the peace and quiet. In fact, there were hardly any noises. Except for the cracking sounds he made, whenever he stepped on a twig, and the rustling of the leaves, moving in the wind. Every now and then he could also hear some birds chirping. But other than that it was quiet.

Eerily quiet.

* * *

Stiles had no idea what made him stray from the path, why he chose to go right even though he knew the body had been found near the lake. He knew the way there. He and his father used to go fishing there when he was a child. Not something he'd enjoyed very much, what with the waiting, sitting still and being quiet, but he'd gone anyway, each and every time.

But even though he has never been there, Stiles also knew where the other path would lead to.

The Hale property.

Stiles doubted anyone has been there in the last six years. But then again, even before the fire people had avoided that area of the Beacon Hill woods. The Hales were known to be very private, and very secretive. But maybe the latter was just Stiles and his obsession with conspiracy theories and all things out of the ordinary.

True, they had mostly kept to themselves, but that had probably more to do with the remote location of their home, than anything else. The Hale children had gone to the same schools as the rest of the Beacon Hill kids. They had been part of the community just as their parents – Jason and Talia Hale.

Sure, neither of them had worked in town. Jason Hale had been a carpenter, specializing on restoring old furniture. He'd been partners with Mr. Owen, who still owned a small workshop on Baker Street, but he had worked mostly from home. And Talia Hale didn't have a job at all, other than being a mother. Although considering all the kids living in the house, that was probably a fulltime job. And still, whenever there was a shortage of staff at the kindergarten, the library or the hospital, she would fill in, volunteering to help out in any way she could. A remarkable trait of character, not just according to Stiles' standards …

He could still remember the first, and actually only, time he met her personally. Of course, Stiles had seen the Hale's matriarch around town before, but for some reason he'd never had any contact with her.

It was at the town's annual fair. Stiles used to attend this event every year with his mother. But given the fact that she'd just died a few months prior, it was understandable that he had reservations to take any part that year. But then he remembered how much fun they used to have, and he changed his mind in the last minute.

That year Stiles made his first contribution at the bake sale. Several batches of his grandmother's cookies. Even though he'd burnt a few, they were a great hit. He'd already sold most of them, when Talia Hale came over, leaving her own stand in the hands of her sister-in-law.

"Those are delicious." She said, and clearly meaning it, not just going by the way she was licking her lips. She was by far his best customer, buying the last remaining cookies, thirty in total. In fact, she looked rather disappointed there weren't more left. "I'd like to get the recipe."

"I'm sure you do." Stiles replied, trying to sound nonchalant but feeling very proud. He'd never baked anything on his own. He'd always had help, until now …

"I would trade my cheery pie recipe."

Unsurprisingly, Stiles was tempted by the offer, very, very tempted. He loved that cake, but in the end he still declined. "Sorry, no can do. It's a family secret."

For a moment Stiles could have sworn her eyes changed color from hazel to bright red. But it was gone just as quickly, which was why he dismissed it as a mere trick of light. Instead of feeling affronted by Stiles' behavior, Talia Hale smiled warmly, approvingly even. "I understand. Family secrets are important. And so are traditions." Stiles nodded, not truly understanding the meaning behind her words. Feeling embarrassed about the whole situation, he hurried to occupy himself with packing up his things. Sure, he was out of baking goods to sell, but he still used it more as an excuse than anything else.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

Stiles froze, nearly dropping the tray he was holding. He slowly turned around, facing Talia Hale once more. She didn't look at him with pity, like most people. Her face showed nothing but love and compassion. Stiles was thrown. She might have known of him – what with him being a police officer's kid – but she didn't know him. Why would a strange woman act in such a way?

Going by the knowing look on her face, she could clearly sense his uncertainty, his ever growing discomfort, but she still reached out, laying a hand on his shaking one. He had no idea how she did it, but the simply gesture helped him to calm down considerably. And even though he was still very confused by the whole thing, he was very grateful. He certainly didn't want to have a panic attack right then and there. Having a freak-out in private was one thing, but in public, under the watchful and judging eyes of numerous people … that was another thing altogether.

"If you need someone to talk to, someone who just listens to you … our house is always open for you. Especially if you bring some of those cookies with you …" She winked at him, and then, without another word, she left, returning to her own stand, joining her brother Peter and his wife Claire.

Stiles stared after her, completely stunned by the unexpected, but clearly genuine offer. Only when his eyes met Peter's he quickly averted his gaze. There was no compassion in his eyes, just suspicion. Stiles hurried to pack up his stuff, never daring to look in their direction again.

He went home that day, with a small fortune in his pocket – for a ten-year-old – and an aching heart and head. He'd thought about Talia Hale's invitation for days, struggling to make a decision. But in the end he didn't get the chance to visit their house, because a week later the unthinkable happened …

* * *

Stiles climbed up a rolling hill, through some thicket, and there it was … the wreckage that used to be a house, a home. He had to swallow hard, remembering how many people had lost their life that day. It didn't take much to imagine their screams, their pleas for help … but nobody had come. Out of ten people only two had survived, by sheer luck. The eldest children had gotten themselves into some trouble, both ending up in detention that day.

"Luck is just another word for fate." His mother used to say. Stiles never took much stock in things like that, but this once, he had to agree with her. If it weren't for the headmaster's strict regime, the entire Hale family might have been wiped out that day.

Naturally an investigation had been started, but closed pretty soon after. Stiles hadn't thought about it in a very long time, but he could still remember like it was yesterday how furious his father had been about it. But unfortunately he hadn't been in charge. Not yet anyway, but on the fast track getting there. At the time Michael Evans had been the sheriff, a good man – honest and respectable – but according to Stiles' Dad doing things too much by the book. He was sixty seven when he retired, a few weeks after the terrible tragedy, finally making room for John Stilinski to become the leading police officer. But by then it was too late. The fire inspector had ruled the whole incident as an accident, rather than arson like his father had assumed.

Now that Stiles thought about it, the whole thing was indeed very bizarre. The Hale family had lived in seclusion for years. He was sure they had taken every precaution, every step to ensure that their house was safe, especially with so many children living there. True, a fire could start under the most unlikely circumstances, but to spread so easily and fast, that no one was able to escape, that was more a sign of arson than an accident.

Very weird indeed … and certainly a good reason to look into it further. Thankfully, his father kept copies of some case files at home, on his computer. Without a doubt the one about the Hale House fire was among those. And given the fact that John Stilinski wasn't very skilled with computers, Stiles knew that deciphering the access code would be a cakewalk. True, he could ask his father to just give him the file. And there was a good chance he would give it to him, but not without providing a reason, and a convincing one at that. Sheer curiosity wouldn't do the trick, Stiles knew that, but he could hardly tell his Dad the truth. In fact, the Sheriff would be furious if he knew where Stiles was right now.

'Secrets are important.' Talia Hale's words echoed in his mind, and Stiles couldn't agree more. 'Sometimes it's easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.'

* * *

Even though there wasn't much left now, Stiles could still image what the house had looked like before the fire. Two stories high, with big windows, and a porch leading all around the house. The structure still looked stable enough, but Stiles didn't dare to go inside. But to be honest that was more for sentimental reasons than out of caution. Even now, six years later, Stiles felt like he was walking on a graveyard. He took slow and deliberate steps, letting his eyes sweep across the property. Everything seemed to be untouched, only showing signs of neglect and decay.

Except for one thing.

A small patch of land to the left looked different. The soil there was not dry and covered with fallen leaves, but freshly dug up. It looked way too smooth to be done by an animal.

Clearly someone has been here, very recently. Stiles moved closer, eager to investigate further. He'd never given it much thought. But maybe he should follow in his Dad's footsteps and become a police officer. He certainly had the right kind of qualifications – keen eyes, intuition and a deep desire to uncover the truth. But still … he knew his talents would be wasted in the police force. He might not have a clear idea of what he wanted to be, but that what's college was for. Try and find out what you can be. He could hardly wait.

The closer he came, the more he realized what the size and shape of the disturbed area reminded him of. A grave. Not an unusual leap of conclusion, considering the place, but certainly a creepy one. Did someone actually come here to bury something … or God forbid someone?

Stiles shivered at that thought, looking around for clues. There were no tire tracks, no footprints, except for the ones he just left behind. If there had been any evidence, it was gone now, washed away by last night's rain. But that didn't stop him. Exercising caution certainly has never been one of his strong suits. Stiles move closer, feeling even more intrigued than before. Somewhere, deep inside, he knew he was led here for a reason, and he wasn't going to turn tail and run now, not before he got some answers.

At first Stiles couldn't detect anything unusual about the dug-up area. It was plain and simple, just soil. But then he noticed a single plant at the head end, or foot, depending on the point of view. Unfortunately botany has never been one of Stiles' particular interests, which was why he could not tell what kind of plant it was. It looked like a flower, somewhat like lilac. But he knew those grew on bushes, not on the ground.

Whatever it was, it certainly seemed out of place, like it didn't grow there, but had been planted in that specific place for a reason … almost like a substitute for a gravestone. Stiles kneeled beside it, carefully stroking the blossoms. He leaned in, taking a quick sniff. The smell wasn't repulsive but not appealing either, kinda neutral. Stiles was so engrossed in his study of the plant, that he didn't notice that he had company.

"What are you doing here?" An unfamiliar, deep voice suddenly cut through the silence.

Stiles was so surprised, he almost fell on his behind, catching himself just in time. He slowly got on his feet, wiping his hands on his trousers, before slowly turning around.

Even though he hadn't seen him in six years, Stiles immediately recognized the person standing before him.

Derek Hale.


	4. Chapter 4

**Some of you might have wondered why Stiles knew Derek from school, considering the six year age difference between them. I know that High School in the US is usually only 4 years, from 9****th**** to 12****th**** grade. But since Beacon Hill is such a small town, they have no middle school. At least not in my story …**

**Chapter 4**

Stiles' first thought wasn't 'Damn, I'm busted'. No, it was 'Damn, he turned out nice'.

It's not that Derek Hale hasn't always been good looking. Even at the age of eleven Stiles had been able to notice that, along with quite a few girls. But as far as he could remember, Derek hadn't dated anyone back then. Or at least not anyone from school.

"What are you doing here?" Tall, dark and handsome repeated, sounding even grumpier than before.

True, initially Stiles had felt bad for trespassing on his property, but now … not so much. Derek's scolding tone of voice was more than a little irritating. The only person allowed to speak to him this way was his father. And even then Stiles rebelled, each and every time. No matter what, he certainly wouldn't back down now.

But it wasn't just the chiding that didn't sit well with Stiles. It was also Derek's posture. Standing there, a few feet away with his legs slightly apart and his arms folded against his chest, and, to top it all off, a very disapproving look on his face. Actually, that was the worst. For one it didn't suit him. It made him look … sour. But more importantly it made Stiles feel like a child. He might be six years younger, but he was still almost of age.

Stiles straightened his back in defiance, raising his head, glaring right back at his opponent. "I heard you the first time."

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say. Derek unfolded his arms, taking a few deliberate steps forward, effectively closing the distance between them. As much as Stiles appreciated Derek's physique – his strong features, his muscular legs and arms, not to mention his abs – he felt a little intimidated by his rough demeanor. But there was no way he was going to admit that, ever.

"I'm not scared of you."

Derek smirked, arching one of his thick eyebrows. "Your heartbeat is telling a different story."

"Yeah, right." Stiles snorted. "Like you are able to hear that."

Derek was right about it, though. His heart was actually beating quite a bit faster than normal, but there was no way he could determine that without using a stethoscope or laying a hand on his chest. Not that Stiles would have minded either one or the other, quite the opposite actually. He would have gladly volunteered to be the patient, as long as Derek was the doctor in that scenario.

'Like that was ever going to happen … but one could dream …'

Hopefully unaware of Stiles' wanton thoughts, Derek rolled his eyes, huffing in annoyance. "Maybe I am, maybe I'm not … but that's not the issue here."

"Which is?" Stiles shot back, already knowing the answer.

"You are trespassing."

"Well, that's not my fault. I just lost my way." As excuses went, it was a very lame one. And Stiles knew that. But given the circumstances, it was the first thing that came to his mind. And going by Derek's expression, he didn't buy it either.

"You are lying." He growled, obviously running out of what little patience he'd had to begin with. "Do us both a favor and leave."

"Or what?" Stiles challenged, knowing very well that he was tempting fate. But he just couldn't help himself. His father always said that his mouth was would get him into some real trouble one day. And maybe he had been right about that all along.

"You really don't want to find out."

Derek certainly meant what he said. To tell the truth, it was obvious that he was fighting to stay in control, not just going by the way he was clenching and unclenching his hands. There was also a strange glint in his eyes, one that Stiles had witnessed only twice before – once with his mother and shortly after with his uncle. Maybe that was something that ran in their family. In Talia's case Stiles had interpreted it as approval, with Peter it had been the complete opposite. And with Derek it seemed to be a combination of both … which made him none the wiser.

Stiles didn't know what it was – maybe his gut feeling, maybe his intuition, maybe just a glimpse of hope – but something told him that Derek wouldn't actually resort to violence if he refused to heed his warning. But even so, he didn't want to stick around to find out what might happen if he was wrong. True, Derek wasn't that much taller, maybe an inch or two, but he was most certainly physically stronger. No way, Stiles would stand a chance against him.

Without another comment – snide or otherwise – he moved past Derek and took flight. Only when he was about a mile away, he dared to look over his shoulder, checking if he was being followed. But he couldn't see anything but trees and bushes. To be honest, Stiles was a little disappointed, but he didn't linger to wait if Derek would change his mind and pursue him after all. Instead he hurried to get back to his car. Forgotten were his original plans – finding the other half of the body and his wolf. All he wanted now was to get home as fast as possible. Not out of fear or anything along that line, but because he suddenly had a new project.

Finding out everything there was to know about Derek Hale.

* * *

It was about five thirty when Stiles finally pulled into the driveway in front of his house. He was surprised to find out that he'd actually spent four hours in the woods, especially considering that his outing hadn't been very fruitful. Well at least not by gaining any new insights. If anything, he only ended up with more questions. Questions that needed to be answered, but not right now …

Stiles was very glad though that he made it in time. His father would be home pretty soon, having the early shift for once. And dressed as he was right now it would be very hard to hide the truth from the Sheriff. One look and he would easily figure out where his son had spent the afternoon. And Stiles couldn't have that, which was why he didn't stop at the kitchen and get something to eat – even though he was starving – but went straight upstairs to his room.

Deciding to take a quick shower before getting changed, Stiles stripped down to nothing. After all the running he felt the need to freshen up, before putting on clean clothes. Standing under the hot spray of water, he had a hard time keeping the shower short and efficient. Not truly surprising, seeing as the shower was one of his favorite places to jack off. And especially now, with the new fodder for his spank bank, so to speak. Just imagining Derek's strong upper arms and his big hands was enough to make him hard. He knew it wouldn't take much for him to come, just a few firm strokes. But he didn't give into his hormonal urges, reaching for the cold tap instead.

For one, Stiles preferred to take his time, teasing himself, very thoroughly, until he simply couldn't take it anymore … But more importantly, his father was due to home any minute. Just the thought of being interrupted by his parent, was enough to kill his erection.

He quickly soaped and rinsed, finishing his shower in record time. And just as he started to get dressed, he heard the cruiser turn into their driveway. By the time he made it downstairs, his father was already in the house, taking off his jacket and locking away his gun.

"Hi." Stiles exclaimed, using far too much enthusiasm than considered normal, considering they last saw each other just that morning.

"Hi." John replied, eying his son suspiciously. "What have you been up to?"

"Nothing." Stiles replied with a shrug, playing dumb. "I'm just not used to you being home so early, that's all. I'm planning to start on dinner. Are you hungry?"

"What do you think?" John snorted.

Stiles laughed, somewhat awkwardly, but mostly feeling relieved that his father didn't grill him further. "Did Nora didn't share her food?"

"Not after you gave her specific orders not to." John grumbled. Stiles didn't even try to hide his grin. Officer Nora Williams was known for her cooking skills. Her food was always delicious, but sadly generally unhealthy, which was why Stiles had a serious word with her when he decided to put his father on diet. She'd promised to keep his father away from her food, no matter what, and so far she hadn't broken her vow, much to the Sheriff's dismay.

"No worries. I'm making lasagna tonight."

Stiles hadn't planned to cook something big, but he was feeling generous, especially after deceiving his father. It was a low fat recipe, of course, but his father loved it nonetheless. Seemingly appeased by his son's bribery, John excused himself to change into something more comfortable than his uniform.

Feeling rather hungry himself, Stiles didn't lose any time, quickly gathering all the ingredients he needed. Fortunately, he'd cooked this meal numerous times before therefore he didn't have to really concentrate on what he was doing. If he'd actually had to consult a cook book, he probably would have screwed up the meal, ending up ordering pizza. And that was something he wanted to avoid at all costs, even though he was very fond of the cheesy stuffed crust.

Considering what happened earlier that day, it wasn't really a surprise that Stiles' thoughts were anywhere but in his kitchen. Not for the first time he wondered if Derek was actually staying at his old home. He truly hoped that wasn't the case. Not just because it was unsafe, which it was, despite the obvious firm ground structure. For the most part Stiles thought it was sad. Well, more than sad actually. To be literally surrounded by the ruins of one's life must be terribly devastating. He might not know Derek very well, but he surely felt sorry for him. Stiles knew what it felt like to lose one family member, but to be robbed off almost one's entire family in one fell swoop … that was a fate he didn't even wish on his greatest enemy.

Only Derek and Laura had survived, leaving town shortly after the tragic event. Understandably, given that they had lost not only their family but also their home. According to rumors they had relocated to the east coast, somewhere in Vermont or Maine, but nobody knew for sure exactly where. Not truly surprising, considering that the Hales had kept to themselves, for the most part. On the other hand, Stiles doubted that anyone had bothered to find out where they went and how they were doing.

But that was no longer an issue now. Derek was back and he looked okay. Well more than okay, actually he looked scrumptious … but only on the outside. It didn't take a genius (like Stiles) to figure out that he was still hurting, big time. One look into his brown eyes was enough to realize that. Stiles didn't blame him. He'd probably looked much the same for the first few months after his mother's death. Even though the circumstances had been completely different, the pain of loss was equally unbearable.

Even now, years later, he could catch that exact same look on his Dad's face, or on his own in the mirror. Not very often, but every once in a while, especially around certain dates. Why should Derek react any differently? Returning to his former home, seeing the destruction, being reminded of the worst day of his life … no wonder he'd been in such a bad mood. Sure, trespassing on his land might have also been an explanation for his less than courteous behavior, but Stiles was sure that the main reason was something else entirely.

Maybe Derek was here to determine the damage, to see if there was a chance to rebuild the house. Or maybe he has been coming here on some sort of yearly pilgrimage, to mourn his losses. Maybe the grave-like patch was some kind of symbol …

Whatever the reason, right now Stiles had a far more pressing question. If Derek was back, did that mean that Laura was here too? He hadn't seen her. But maybe she had been hiding from sight, somewhere in the house. Not that she had any reason to do that. From what Stiles remembered about the eldest of the Hale children, Laura was very capable to take care of herself. One time, she'd beat up two guys almost twice her size, without suffering any kind of injury herself. Come to think of it, that incident had been the reason why she and her brother had ended up in detention on the day of the fire. Derek hadn't taken an active part, other than pulling Laura off her unworthy opponents. But the headmaster had deemed them both guilty. Stiles was sure that Derek had been very mad at his sister at the time. But in hindsight, he was probably thankful. Both their actions had saved their lives.

Stiles thought about asking his father whether there had been any sightings in town, of either one of the Hale siblings. But that would have meant full disclosure, telling him about (pretty much) everything. The Sheriff would probably be sympathetic to Derek's plight, but he would be far less understanding about his son's decision to disregard the rules. And as things were right now, Stiles certainly didn't want to take any chances. Which was why, he decided to keep the dinner talk casual, talking about mundane things, like everyday happenings, rather than approaching delicate subjects.

'There is time for that later …'

Another day passed before Stiles got a chance to check his father's secret stash of files. He had been right, though. Deciphering the password was a cakewalk. It took him only four attempts. When he finally figured out the right password – his mother's name plus the date of his own birthday – he almost considered to give up and leave things be. Almost. But he was simply too curious, too invested already, to stop right there and then.

Unfortunately, he didn't find much. Well, except for one interesting piece of information.

Before driving a school bus Garrison Myers used to be an insurance investigator. The very investigator, who had ruled the Hale fire an accident. Needless to say, Stiles thought it was very strange that Myers had changed careers shortly after. Really, who in their right mind would trade such a prestigious position for a job with minimal wage and no perspectives? And especially for no apparent reason according to the Sheriff's own, private notes.

There was no mention of it in the official file, of course, since the case had been already closed by this point. But apparently John Stilinski had deemed that detail just as suspicious as his son that he thought it was worth pursuing once again. According to the time stamp the file had been opened and edited very recently, just two days after Myers untimely demise. Unfortunately, the Sheriff hadn't found any new evidence, just making a short note, like he was planning to look into it further at a later point. Maybe he knew more, but just hadn't gotten the chance to update the file. Considering how busy he was lately, it was a valid explanation.

Nevertheless, since he was already planning to do his own investigation, Stiles copied all files regarding the Hale fire on his memory stick. Sure, he could have easily sent everything to his laptop via email, but he didn't want to leave any evidence behind, at least not anything too obvious. Before leaving his father's study he even made sure everything was in its place, just like he found it … the mouse, the keyboard, even the chair.

'Better safe than sorry …'

* * *

Unfortunately, Stiles didn't get the opportunity to dig up more information about the issue. Due to an important upcoming game Coach Finstock had insisted on extra training hours. Which were of course mandatory, be there or be off the team. No one doubted the Coach's determination to follow through with his threat, not even Greenberg.

Stiles didn't want to wait until the weekend. Something told him that time was of the essence, that if he didn't act soon, something bad was going to happen. But perhaps that was just his impatience talking. He still went to lacrosse training each and every afternoon, despite his uneasiness, because he didn't want to raise any suspicion, from anyone.

"Sometimes I wonder what I'm doing." Scott grumbled, fidgeting with his lacrosse stick.

"You're not the only one." Stiles remarked, dryly.

"Hey," Scott protested, for once catching on right away. It was rather rare that he understood sarcasm. "I mean, what I'm doing here, sitting on the sidelines. Don't tell me, you don't want to be out on the field?"

"Maybe." Stiles shrugged.

"Maybe? We've been on the team for what … two years now … and all we do is sitting on the bank, watching the other guys have all the fun. It's not fair." Scott complained.

"True." Stiles agreed, evenly. A couple of weeks ago his response would have been much more emphatic, but with everything going on his priorities had changed, dramatically.

"What's with the single word responses? You usually have far more to say." Scott commented, sparing his friend a significant look. There was no accusation in his eyes, only curiosity, but Stiles still went right on the defensive.

"So what? It's not like things will change all of the sudden."

Scott recoiled at friend's less than friendly reaction. "Dude, what's wrong with you today? Come to think of it, you've been acting very strange lately."

"Like you had time to notice …" Stiles shot back, leaving no room for interpretation.

"Oh, I get it. It's my relationship with Allison. Is that what's bothering you? I thought you were okay with it. I thought you like her." Scott pointed out, adding, "Are you jealous?"

"Please," Stiles snorted. "You know as well as I do that I'm not jealous."

"Okay," Scott conceded, sounding anything but convinced. "Then what is it?"

For a moment Stiles considered confronting his friend about spending all his free time with his girlfriend. But even though it was certainly a significant reason for his bad mood, it wasn't the main one. And what good would it do to put all the blame on Scott? Their relationship was already strained as it was. No need to make things worse.

"I don't know … maybe I'm just grumpy because of my sleeping issues. It seems to get worse. Too much on my mind, I guess." Stiles explained, being rather evasive, sure, but telling the truth nonetheless. It was obvious by Scott's expression that he wanted to ask for more details. And even though Stiles appreciated the sentiment, he couldn't have it. Hiding things from his best friend on purpose was one thing. Lying outright to his face was another thing altogether. Which was why, he quickly stood up.

"Where are you going?"

"I have to take a leak." It was an excuse to escape the situation, but Scott seemed to buy it. As usual Coach Finstock didn't pay them any attention, which meant that Stiles could sneak away for a few minutes without being caught. Not that he cared. Lacrosse was so low on his priority list right now.


End file.
